From 2005 through 2009, 825 women in Chatham County suffered from breast cancer.

At least 154 of them - nearly one in five - have died.

And they did so at a higher rate than in many areas, according to numbers compiled by Susan G. Komen for the Cure, a national group battling the disease.

Those statistics showed Chatham had the third-highest death rate in the Komen Coastal Georgia affiliate's nine-county region.

Behind such grim figures are emotional scars still borne by people who lost wives, daughters, mothers or sisters.

People such as Jerry Chambers of Savannah, whose oldest daughter, Sherray, died this summer.

"She was the first one to call me Daddy," said Chambers, who cared for her in her last months and faults himself for not doing more.

People such as Savannahian Cayce Girardeau, who lost a sister in 2000 and reconnected with her nieces only when she, too, was afflicted by the disease.

People such as Donna Watson of Hinesville, who finds it hard to look at pictures of her big sister, who passed away early this year.

But as cold and dry as they look on a computer screen or a printed page, the hard disembodied statistics tell important stories of their own.

For example, Chatham's high death rate likely is no accident, suggests a report the Komen affiliate prepared on the region.

Chatham also had more than its share of another problem that tends to accompany death rates, the report said.

It had the second highest percentage of women whose cancers were detected in late stages - when survival prospects are bleakest.

And that problem was accompanied in Chatham - as is often the case in areas with high death rates - with other high concentrations.

Among them were poverty, uninsured people and African-American women, whose illnesses often are detected later.

Chambers, who is African American, said he's acutely aware of that issue.

"If you wait too late to get help," he said, "the cancer can be very hard to overcome. Unfortunately, that was the case with my daughter."

He's made it a personal mission to advise young women of all races to be screened.

A Komen-sponsored focus group discussion that targeted black women in Chatham County tracked closely with the Coastal Georgia affiliate's statistics.

It found that low income and lack of insurance discouraged women from getting screening. Some women also cited long waits, poor relationships with primary care doctors and fear of being told they had cancer.

"One woman," a Komen report said, "shared that, in the absence of a relationship with a physician, she preferred to Google her symptoms and self-diagnose."

And many such women, the report said, seemed unaware there's an upside for most women whose breast cancer is found before it spreads.

"If found early, while breast cancer is still confined to the breast," said Beth Desloges, executive director of Komen's Coastal Georgia affiliate, "there is a 98 percent, five-year survival rate."

Toward that end, Komen has striven to improve access to free or reduced-cost breast health services.

It's also working to make sure women know where they can get help and promoting efforts to reduce fears and misconceptions.

Such efforts by Komen and others apparently are starting to pay off.

"There has been a slight decline in death rates in Chatham County over the past 10 years," said Dr. Diane Weems, chief medical officer for the Chatham County Health Department. "And that's the good news.

"Education is key. Women need to know the importance of getting regular mammograms."

Weems also said screening programs newly available to women who have little or no health insurance coverage are helping with early detection.

Dr. Ben Watson, a Savannah family practice physician who is not related to Donna Watson, said new diagnostic technologies are helping.

"There are fewer deaths," he said. "We're doing less invasive procedures. But, unfortunately, it's still a major life-changer for women."

The bottom line, said Weems is that "there is a still a lot of work to be done."

Jerry Chambers

Jerry Chambers remembers that his daughter, Sherray, loved to play on swings.

"She was my oldest child," said Chambers, a Savannah upholsterer who was a single father to three daughters. "She was the first one to call me Daddy."

Chambers, 57, said he was heartbroken when Sherray told him in 2009 she'd been diagnosed with a late-stage case.

"But I tried to maintain an upbeat attitude," he said. "I knew it was going to be an uphill fight. I knew she needed my support. She gave us three more years to love her."

He was her primary caregiver. A grant from Komen helped with expenses, Chambers said.

"The initial chemo and radiation were very hard on her," he said. "She was so weak I had to pick her up like she was an infant. At times, she said she wanted to give up, but she didn't."

For a while, Sherray got better and was able to move back into her apartment. Later, she got much sicker and returned to his home.

But even in her final weeks, she sometimes had a healthy appetite. Chambers remembers the day he greeted her, "Good morning. How about some oatmeal?"

"How about some grits and eggs?" she countered.

She ate grits and eggs.

"She was very courageous," he said. "She never expected others to feel sorry for her." Sherray, 33, died on July 29.

"She apologized in her final moments. She said, 'I'm sorry, Daddy, the fight was just too much to overcome."

Chambers blames himself.

"As a father," he said, "I always wonder if I could have done more."

But though it's too late for Sherray, Chambers hopes he can help other women fight - and win.

"Every opportunity I get," he said, "I urge young ladies to get mammograms. Finding out early gives you a much better chance."

Cayce Girardeau

Cayce Girardeau's sister, Candace, died in 2000 at the age of 46.

They were close. Girardeau called Candace "a bridge to a lot of things."

By her own admission, Girardeau, a 50-year-old Savannah resident, didn't cope very well.

Then a vice president for human resources with an Atlanta company, she immersed herself in her work.

"I just sort of fell apart," she said. "I lost contact with my sister's family. I really didn't know what to say to them. One of my nieces was 10."

Only after Girardeau, too, was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2007 did she decide she "hadn't been a very good aunt" and it was "time for me to make amends."

As a result, two of her nieces came to live in Savannah, one of them in Girardeau's basement.

"My sister used to say she couldn't picture me having children unless they were 18. But that's what happened. My 18-year-old was her 18-year-old."